Eleventh Grave in Moonlight (Charley Davidson #11)(55)
I knew what happened to people who messed with those Ubie loved.
We were headed to his SUV. I slowed my pace in thought. I really did know what happened to such people. Damn. Now I was going to have to make it my mission to get to Joe Stalker before Ubie did. Getting away with murder was not something that happened often. For him to pull that rabbit out of his hat twice would be nigh impossible.
I watched him walk out the front doors, apprehension working a hole into my stomach.
*
When we emerged from the halls of medium-to-higher education, I noticed a thrill rush through the crowd like an electrical current. A telltale sign that somewhere nearby stood a very hot person of the male variety. Girls twittered as they talked quietly. They giggled and gasped. Either Osh had already made an impact, or my husband was checking out the younger crowd.
Yep. We’d turned the corner of the building, heading toward the parking lot, when I spotted Mr. Reyes Farrow standing next to his stunning ’70 Plymouth ’Cuda. Classic. Dark. And all muscle. The car was hot, too.
He raised his chin in greeting to Ubie and waited for me. And he was going to cause about twenty girls to be late for class. They stood around, whispering and gazing starry-eyed. The guy took chick magnet to a whole new level of attraction. He was less like a refrigerator magnet and more like one of those cranes that picked up junk cars to be crushed. Substitute girls’ hearts for the cars, and that was Reyes in a nutshell.
“Okay,” Ubie said, “I’m getting the details worked out with the op team. You’ll keep in contact with Amber all day, yeah?”
“Of course, Uncle Bob. We are going to get this guy.”
He nodded, unconvinced. At least he’d stopped harassing me to take a few days off.
“Okay. Get your ass home.”
“Uncle Bob, what’s going on? Why the sudden need for me to take a few days off?”
He shook his head. “I just think you need a break,” he said, lying through his slightly crooked teeth.
“Well, I just got back from a vigorous trip to Scotland. No more taking off for a while.”
“I mean it, Charley.”
“I can see that.”
Not really sure if I’d agreed or not, he walked to his SUV.
What would have Ubie so upset that he couldn’t tell me? He would hide it from me? Maybe he knew we were stalking him, for his own good, of course.
I looked across the street and spotted Garrett’s black truck, still on Ubie duty. We had yet to catch Guerin, and I couldn’t take the chance that, even though we thwarted the initial design that the man was destined to kill Uncle Bob, it would happen anyway. Fate was a fickle thing. Who knew what changing one miniscule part of it would do to the rest? I was a firm believer in the Butterfly Effect.
“Hey, handsome,” I said, strolling up to Mr. Farrow.
He eyed me, a dimple appearing at one corner of his mouth, but he was mostly looking at my T-shirt, which read, IN MY DEFENSE, I WAS LEFT UNSUPERVISED.
“What brings you to this neck of the woods?” I asked, pulling on a sweater over my shirt.
“I thought we’d take the morning off.”
“Did you?” I rose onto my toes for a kiss. He obliged, his essence warming my lips. “Are you cahooting with my uncle?”
“Cahooting?” he asked, quirking a brow. “Not that I know of.”
“Okay, then this wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain case I’m working on?”
“Not at all. Cookie’s in full research mode, so—”
“Cookie’s daughter is in danger. I’m not sure how much research she’ll get done today.”
“True, but one morning away from the grind isn’t going to hurt your chances of nailing the Fosters.”
“I guess.” I waved at Uncle Bob as he drove away, and I went around to the other side of the sexy beast Reyes drove. “Any change in Ubie’s status?” I asked, wondering if the guy Reyes saw in prison was still slated to murder him even though we’d stopped it. I didn’t know that much about destiny. If we thwarted one attempt, was another one sure to follow?
He got in, disappointing his fans, and started the powerful engine, like a lion’s purr. “It’s not your uncle I need to see where that’s concerned. All I see is what got him slated for hell. I would need to see Grant Guerin again to know if your uncle is still in danger.”
“So, we’re still at DEFCON 1.”
“For the time being, but we’ve stirred up his world enough that the chances of your uncle randomly stumbling across him again are pretty slim.”
“Wait. Does that mean if Grant Guerin doesn’t do the deed he was slated for, if he doesn’t kill Uncle Bob, he won’t go to hell?”
“He’s making some bad decisions, so he’s on a pretty direct path to cause someone harm. I only see the initial offense. There’s no telling how many other crimes he was destined to commit afterwards. The chances are still pretty good that he will end up on fire eventually.”
“I wish I could see that.”
“You can. You just choose not to see the evils that men do.”
“I don’t think choice has anything to do with it.”
“Of course, it does. You’re the reaper. You can see all things like that. You can even send them there yourself should you choose. You’ve done it before.”